


Poker Face

by moosetashioedmonocle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Multi, There's a brief mention of Norkington but it's not enough to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosetashioedmonocle/pseuds/moosetashioedmonocle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the monthly Freelancer poker night, York and Wyoming discover exactly how much they hate each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker Face

In space, there is no real morning. At some point, morning is scheduled to occur, and when you’re a space marine, you have to obey and get up even if you don’t want to. In Wyoming’s case, he really didn’t want to. He was perfectly content where he was, half dazed and snuggled up with agent Florida, gently pressing a kiss on the back of the other’s exposed neck. In York’s case, he didn’t want to either. He had a killer headache, and he was perfectly content smothered by North’s warm arms, the sniper a bit unshaven but still ever so North, kissing his shoulders with that soft morning moan noise.

The morning called to the both of them, and out of habit they both grumbled, but obeyed the call. They sat up in unison, rubbing their aching heads, and found…each other.

Naturally, the first response was terrified screaming.

“What the fuck?” York shrieked, snatching the sheets off the bed and moving away, pulling the thin layer of decency off of Wyoming, revealing that indeed, the both of them were naked in the same bed together. Wyoming grabbed a pillow and followed suit, backing up until his back hit the wall, eyes darting around the room to find a weapon of some kind.

“Oh no.” Wyoming said, eyes finding not a weapon but the evidence of his own crimes. All across York’s torso were bruises, trailing down all the way to-

“Ohhhh shit. Shit, shit, no, not you, not fucking you-” York cursed under his breath, his eyes trained on his own partaking-Wyoming was also bruised, a few choice bite marks marking his otherwise pale skin, along with a red mark around his neck that looked suspiciously like a handprint.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. The two of them connected the dots-the headaches gave it away, really. Neither of them said a word, finding something to wear scattered all across the floor-oh god, the clothes were everywhere, that wasn’t a good sign at all.  
“Well-” Wyoming started, trying to make light of the situation.

“Don’t you dare!” York hissed. “Christ, I’ve got a bitch of a hangover, the last thing I need is to hear you talk.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.” Wyoming sneered, rapidly shoving the last of his clothes on. “Look, York-” he started, turning around and ending up with a face full of York’s palm.

“Shut your fucking mustache.”

“York, let’s at least-”

“No. Stop talking. We aren’t discussing it, it’s never going to happen again, and that’s that. Got a problem, you pompous fuck?” York spat, uncovering Wyoming’s mouth on the last word. His eyes bore into Wyoming’s, challenging the older man to say otherwise. Wyoming only echoed the same sentiment, lip curling in a sneer before he exhaled, blinked, and grimaced.

“Not at all.”

 

Their policy of silence was easier to pull off than they expected, under the cover of full-body suits and really good fake smiles. Their fear was confirmed-they had, indeed, gotten extremely drunk the night previously. In fact, they got so drunk that they began to fight, and the only way to get them to stop being a bother to the others ended up being locking them away in York’s room so they could fight it out. The other freelancers all said “fight” with a strange inflection, as if they somehow knew that the two rivals had done the exact opposite of fighting. However, nobody asked.

Well, until that night. York, in an effort to clear his mind of trying to follow his drunk logic of fucking Wyoming, got himself tangled with a much preferable freelancer-North. He figured having his brains fucked out would put him back on the normal track and cure him of whatever disease had rotted his brains the night previous North, however, was almost too good a lover. He insisted on taking his sweet time, kissing a trail down York’s neck, gently but swiftly pulling up his shirt until he found the marks of York’s current embarrassment.

“York, what-” he started, fingertips grazing some of the many bruises.

“Please, don’t ask.”

“What did you do?” North asked anyway, much to York’s disdain. York let out a whoosh of air, tossing his head back. If there was anyone he could trust with this, it was probably North.

“I…I was drunk.”

“We all were, it was poker night.”

“Exactly. You remember how I kept trying to get Wyoming to bet his mustache, and how we started fighting?” York asked, daring to look up at North.

“Yes…” North answered. Goddamn, that face of confusion he was making was so adorable.

“And how Florida decided the best course of action was to lock us away?” York asked, voice getting quieter.

“What did he do to you?”

“I…” York started, looking everywhere but North, eventually settling his face into the cove of the sniper’s shoulder. “We fucked.”

“You what?” North exclaimed, starting to laugh before he realized York was actually very upset about this development. He sat back on his heels, pulling York forward to look at him. “Did you really?”

“Well, I mean, when you wake up naked in bed with someone, it’s usually a good indicator.”

“Wow.” North said. York waited for the rest of the statement, but nothing came.

“Wow? That’s it?”

“What do you want from me, screaming and crying? I’m just glad he didn’t fuck you up-I mean, leave you with something worse than a few bruises.”

“You’re no help, North.”

“Look, you’ve done worse things when you were drunk.”

“Like what?” York challenged, eyes narrowing. North didn’t have an answer, opting instead to suck a fresh mark into York’s neck. York tried his best to let go and get lost in the experience that was North Dakota, but it just wasn’t happening. North could probably sense it, he always somehow knew, and despite a mild protest from York, he stopped. North flopped down on the mattress, arms outstretched for York to curl between them. His hands traced patterns into the back of York’s shoulders, occasionally tangling in his hair.

“We fucked the first time while drunk. Remember that?” North asked quietly, moments later.

“God, it was awkward. That’s all I really remember, to be honest.”

“You’re not good at remembering drunken adventures, are you?”

“Never have been. I get black-out drunk and that’s it, I don’t usually recall what happened until months later.” York admitted, mumbling into the skin of North’s chest.

“Well, I remember it pretty clearly.” North said, and York hummed a “uh-huh” while kissing at the skin of North’s shoulder. “You were right, it was incredibly awkward. You also kept saying “no homo” every five seconds, I swear.” North chuckled, stretching out his neck to let York have more skin to kiss at, and York chuckled as he nibbled on North’s jaw. “But the time after that, once we sobered up, that was a good night.” York hummed an agreement, pushing himself up to look at North’s face. He was gently flushed, and with York’s smile, he let out a shit-eating grin.

“What are you getting at, huh?” York asked, kissing the grin right off North’s smug face.

“I’m just saying, second time around was-” North replied when he got air, but had to cut off when York rolled his hips into North’s, trying to reignite the previous mood. “-much better than the-fuck, York, do that again.” North said. He lost his own meaning, content instead to forget it all for the sake of agent York. York did get what he wanted, after all.

Of course, North wasn’t the only one getting his brains fucked out. Agent Florida was having the time of his life, pinned between a mattress and a strangely aggressive Wyoming. Boy, when Wyoming had asked for something a bit more rough, he hadn’t been kidding. One hand held Florida’s hips in place, the other tangled in his hair and pulling. Wyoming didn’t even slow the pace of his hips as he pulled Florida up, sitting up in one fluid motion and moving Florida’s smaller frame to the nearest wall, where he sunk his teeth into his flesh and kept right on going, encouraged by Florida’s ragged breathing and the nails scratching marks into his shoulders.

“Re-Reg-Reggie-oh-Reg!” Florida was practically screaming, the new angle driving him up the wall-literally and figuratively. It was really only a matter of time before he was driven over the edge, body tensing around Wyoming as he slowed his pace, fucking every last bit out of the man pinned to the wall. He didn’t care that he himself was still solid and aching to continue until he himself could also get off, especially not as he watched his lover’s mind reel, lost in a haze for a good long moment. Florida slumped down as he came back, gasping in a breath or two.

“Easy, easy-you alright, love?” Wyoming asked, scooping Florida up from where he had practically melted and moving him down to where he could collapse on the bed and recover himself.

“Oh, I’m much more than alright.” Florida laughed. “God, darling, where did you learn that? That was amazing, I-” Florida was silenced by a mustached kiss, his fingers lightly curling in Wyoming’s fussed-up hair. It was short and sweet, Wyoming pulling off so Florida could breathe.

“Glad you liked it.” Wyoming murmured in Florida’s ear, collapsing next to him.

“Liked it? Are you kidding?” Florida almost giggled, head turning to look at Wyoming but body too tired to move. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“If I did it like that every time, I’m pretty sure I’d break something.”

“Probably me. Fuck, that might have been one of the best orgasms of my life.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Wyoming rolled his eyes, lightly smacking his lover’s side, moving to cuddle up with the smaller man before Florida let out a small, disappointed “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t…”

“I don’t need to, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Reggie-”

“Butch, really. This was for you, not for me.” Wyoming dismissed it, happy to ignore the lust collecting in his gut if it meant basking in the soft afterglow.

“Let me at least-” Florida said, shifting his leg between Wyoming’s, rutting against him.

“Love, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t be able to control myself if you do.” Wyoming half-joked, and Florida hummed, biting his lip.

“Promise you wouldn’t?”

“You’ve had enough for one night, I think. If it bothers you that much, I’ll go get rid of it-”

“Oh come on, I could manage one more round!” Florida said, almost entirely truthfully. Wyoming knew that given the chance, he would absolutely try to go one more, but Florida had been fucked out and needed to rest. Wyoming tutted, kissed the worries off Florida’s lips and moved to yank a pair of pants off the floor, moving off to the showers. “At least be quick!”

 

There was some sense of dramatic irony in the fact that York was the only person both up at this hour and in the showers the time Wyoming walked in. Both of them cursed at the other’s presence.  
“Seriously, Wyoming? Couldn’t get the thought of me out of your head, could you?” York could joke, they were alone and his mood had much improved since that hungover morning.

“Hardly.” Wyoming muttered, choosing instead to ignore the locksmith and get this over with so he could return to Florida.

“Well your mouth says one thing, but your dick says otherwise.”

“Sod off.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” York turned back to his shower, hot and steamy-fuck, had he always been that tan? Wyoming had the water on cold, but catching glimpses of the man a few showers down was only making it worse. He cursed his past, drunken self for bringing to the foreground how blatantly fuckable York was.

“Like what you see, huh?” Oh no, York had noticed, even going so far as to pose himself dramatically, all stretched out and hip cocked to one side. Wyoming couldn’t stop himself from looking, but he could play it off with disinterest pretty easily. If only his body would calm down and obey his mental commands, he could walk away and retire to Florida’s waiting arms.

On the other end of the shower room, York wasn’t faring much better. He found it easy to joke about it, but what North had been saying before he fucked it out of him kept bouncing around his head. He had gotten up to try and put it out of mind, but he was perpetually haunted by the thought. Actually, he was more so haunted by the very idea that was sex with Wyoming. He still seethed with hatred at the mere existence of the other man, but that alone was the appeal. With North or Wash or Carolina, it was tender and heartfelt. With Wyoming, it was fueled with hate, and it made it that more vicious. More simply put, it was rough, uncontrollable fucking. Plus, he got to insult Wyoming. That was another part of the appeal, probably.

“For fucks sake, Wyoming, just jerk it off already.” York hissed, turning off the water of his shower. Wyoming scowled at him. York could just get dressed, walk away, go spend the rest of the night snuggled up with North. Instead, he strutted on over, leaning against the wall next to Wyoming’s freezing shower.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wyoming asked, turning his shower off-wasn’t doing anything anyway, darn thing. York gave him a quick once-over, making a disgusted noise.

“Can’t believe I’m asking, but…you need help?”

“Beg pardon?” Wyoming asked, appalled and mildly aroused by the idea.

“Y’know, some guys can’t get off on their own.”

“Get out of here.”

“It’s perfectly natural, Wyom.”

“Leave.”

“Last chance.” York said in a sugary-sweet voice, leaning into Wyoming’s bubble as a challenge.

“As you would say it, fuck off.” Wyoming sneered, turning the water back on. York reached over and shut it off again. Wyoming glared at him, and York only returned the glare.

“Alright, fine. Since you seem so eager, go for it. But be quick.” Wyoming snapped, and York scoffed, but said no more. His goal here was to be so ridiculously good that Wyoming would come to him next time, so he wouldn’t look like the one who wanted it more. Problem was, Wyoming wasn’t having it. He started with his hands, until a chuckle and a challenge from the British man had him opening his mouth and giving it all he had right from the get-go.

“That all you’ve got?” Wyoming asked, voice wavering only slightly. York squinted his eyes in anger, bobbing his head faster to try and prove a point he didn’t really remember. Wyoming rolled his eyes, grabbed him by the hair, and roughly fucked his face. York was only a little bit caught off guard, gagging twice before he stopped trying to control it, bracing his hands on Wyoming’s hips until the older man finally reached that edge. It was then that he pulled out the big guns, the secret little tricks he knew, and Wyoming was almost doubling over with the intensity of it. Somehow, he stayed standing, even going so far as to give a few final thrusts out of spite before pulling out of York’s mouth and immediately switching the water back on, not caring if it caught York in the face.

“You’re welcome.” York muttered as he started to walk off, drying himself with a towel.

“Catch me when I have more time next time, why don’t you? We can do this sort of thing properly.” Wyoming said, finishing his rinse before shaking himself dry, stealing one of York’s towels to dry himself off with before zipping up his trousers and leaving the room. York flipped him off, one corner of his mouth turning up.

“What took you so long?” Asked both agents Florida and North as their respective companions returned from their showers.

“Had a bit of unfinished business.” Said both agents Wyoming and York, both of them instead lying down to sleep in their respective lover’s arms, content with the idea of more fucks to come.


End file.
